One year later, I look back at the January 6th Capital Riot.

January 6th, 2021 will go down in history as one of the most consequential days in American history. Here's how I reacted when it was happening live.

By: Mo Gerstley

From the jet-black leather couch, I slowly rose. Stretching my back, from the otherwise uneventful day at home, looking ahead. The news chyron displayed just below live shots at the Capital, read "protests intensify in front US capital." Like the dozens of other protests, turned riots, over the previous year, I had perceived the unruly crowd as naive and guileless to believe anything whould progress, especially considering the online rumors I had just heard on Twitter, of a plan to possibly penetrate the Capitol Building itself, something that was virtually impossible, and inconceivable. That notion, like the trove of ideas that led this far-right group to Washington, were unambiguous lunacy, entombed in an array of extremist propaganda, designed to deceive the unlettered, or at least I thought. At around 2 PM, I postured my head in horror, as a newscaster nervously, and shockingly pronounced the lamentable prognosis. "Rioters have now entered the United States Capitol Building." Bristly I leaped, barely holding onto the laptop I'd been using to connect online to ongoing classes at the time, and audibly gasped. Like a distressed movie character viewing the end of a failed attempt to last victorious, I stood there, eyes steadily widening, paralyzed in my utter stupor, I fell to the ground, dropping the laptop, and collapsing into my very hands. From above, my brother stepped into the basement, scrolling through social media, also in shock at what was transpiring in our nation's capital. In one hour, I had gone from a conceited man, laughing as he watched, what he thought to be another attempt from an extreme wing of a party to make a failed political statement through acts of violence, to a man withered in his stress, and scared of the imminent future for the democracy he threw his childhood away to defend. 

  My name is Mo Gerstley, at the time, a fifteen-year-old political influencer on Instagram, Twitter, Youtube, and other Social Media sites, impenitent to my at times, ill-worded remarks. Much of my childhood, was a political-oriented eon. My family would often engulf themselves in rich civic conversations, and contentious cultural discussions, far prior to President Trump's victory in 2016, an event that impelled many other families and societal forums to do the same. I had been a staunch defender of conservative values, an ideology similar to my fathers, and echoed by my mother. I had long been afraid of the dangers I saw in the rising popularity of defeatists, and meaningless ideologies. At just twelve, I had begun a mature quest for meaning and inquiry into life's biggest questions. My religion played the biggest role in guiding me, but so did politics. For most, American politics is a spectacle of unknowing forces vying for power and attention by utilizing important issues of the people, for their own personal benefit, for me, however, it represented the door to a wider discussion about life itself. Quickly, by talking with people about their political beliefs, I whould be able to identify characteristics in a person, otherwise unnoticed, and grow in our interpersonal relationship. I had particularly grown fond of the ideas disseminated by the GOP. Early mornings watching Fox News had certainly molded my tactics of debate, but my fundamental beliefs were far from influenced by the cable media. I deeply believed that the Republicans were inherently right, and I, therefore, defended them fiercely. 

 In March of 2020, a major geopolitical paradigm shift had occurred as a direct result of the coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan China. Like many other instances in history, due to a legitimate threat posed to a certain nation, or the world, a government was able to utilize their unique granted emergency power to enact tyrannical laws and orders. In New York, longtime Govorner Andrew Cuomo had issued Executive Orders that were later ordered "illegal" by US courts in 2021, but because of the ongoing crisis at the time, they weren't stopped. I was a witness to these laws. As a New Yorker, I had watched as Cuomo destroyed the greatest city on the planet, enraging me to a level never felt before. His unjust rules caused me to no longer be able to seek counsel from mentors the way I used to, practice my religion in the way I used to, and frankly, live life in the way I used to. The simple loss of regular life traumatized me. The heightened frustration led to a podcast, which led to a brand, and before long, by the end of 2020, I had a large social media presence and had been recognized on the streets by strangers, who were fond of my content. I had felt as though I had accomplished something, I had reignited a movement, that had been lost for decades. Not a political movement, but a movement of meaning. A search for purpose, beyond ourselves. There wasn't a video, a podcast, a post, or an article where I had significantly lambasted President Trump, for I had truly believed he was right, then the election hit.

  It had been months since the election, still, Trump had not conceded. At first, I was open to possible claims he made of election irregularities and fraud, but as the weeks went on, it became more and more apparent to me, that the proof Trump had claimed to have, was in fact non-existent. I had always seen Mr. Trump as an immature speaker and character, but it was his policies and business outlook to civics that I admired. Therefore, his false claims didn't raise major alarms for me. I had understood that Trump would call "fake news" forever, so I focused on how to cover President Biden, not Trump. However, more extremists, who had not been so critical of even their idol, were extremely angered over the election loss, and so they had traveled to Washington D.C on the day of the election certification, to "voice" their concerns.

  I was aware that the President was holding a rally on January 6th, but I would've never anticipated it to become what it whould be. After all, we were the party of Law Enforcement. We are the defenders of freedom, and the barriers of truth, right? As rioters stormed through the Capital, I couldn't focus on anything else but the trauma I had endured due to the tyrannical laws enacted due to the pandemic, and the long fight for freedom Id made alongside my fellow Republicans. In a deeply pathetic, but profound moment, I had thought, rather than how bad what happened was, or what this meant for our democracy, I had thought "how am I supposed to defend them now?" It was about the optics, about the party, not the country. In the months following, fellow Republicans who had thought the same thing as me whould be ostracized. Liz Cheney, a member of the House GOP whould later be ousted by her committee roles because fellow Republicans deemed her a "RINO," (Republican in name only.) It had been another boulder thrown on my already diminishing faith in the party.

  I still consider myself a Republican. I continue to release videos and articles defending the GOP, and criticizing President Biden's agenda. I love this land more than anything. For, this is the country that allowed for my grandparents to arrive on the shores of New York to start a new life after being persecuted in Europe. This is the land that allows for my entrepreneurial dreams to possibly be more than that, dreams. I love America, and the Democrats' apparent attack on it, is something that certainly distances me from them, but it's more than that. Democrats in recent years have represented the abnegation of reason and basic American values and morals, and the Republicans are the ones that cling to it. It is this, that brings me closer to this party, to love this party, but recently, it's becoming harder and harder to do that.